Snowbound
by OffCenterFold
Summary: Not a blanket scenario, not QUITE a happy ending. A chance encounter could threaten the success of a necessary assassination, if he doesn't take precautions. Contains violence, death, and politics. Written during the Winter of Unending Snow in the NY area


**Snowbound**

_Kyoto, winter in early 1864. _The black envelope was delivered as usual.

The assassin nodded to the messenger and continued on to the dining hall of the inn at which he was staying.

Later, having read it he was a little surprised: the place was quite far away; it hardly seemed worth it. But the note had been specific. "He is guilty of crimes against humanity that would shock even the shougunate. Do not hold back."

Whatever this man had done was not the hitokiri's business. Only the death would be.

Later that night, he slipped from the inn and made his way towards the village. The going was not easy; it was winter and a blizzard had hit four days earlier. In Kyoto, most of the paths were cleared, but as he trekked north to the village where his target lived, the conditions worsened. Two feet of snow, piled higher in some places by the wind, made the going treacherous. As he grew closer to the town that was his destination, the paths worsened. It seemed nothing had been done about removing the snow. Even as sure-footed as he was, the assassin was having difficulty.

The streets on the outlying areas of Nyuyakku were unshoveled. Side-paths had been cleared by most of the houses, but the thoroughfares themselves were impassable. The passage of wagons and people had compressed the snow to thick ice. As he traveled, hours behind schedule, he saw horses with the mayoral seal on their barding pulling wagons with scoops to haul away the snow, but the damage had already been done. Many times he slipped, falling once. No one was around; he was relieved. It was embarrassing enough.

There would be no chance to complete his assignment; it was midday and he would need to hide until dark.

As he made his way to the heart of Nyuyakku, where the mayor lived, the streets slowly showed signs of care. A sign caught his eye.

"There will be a fine levied against anyone who does not clear the walk by his home within four hours of the last snowflake's fall," he read. A snort of disgust escaped him. ~If not for all this snow, he would be dead and I would be on my way back to Kyoto.~

"Believe me, I agree with you," a woman behind him said. Standing in front of her shop, she shook her head. "Asinine, really. Completely ridiculous. Someone ought to take that Hanazawa Mikio and smack some sense into him."

The assassin knew it wouldn't do to admit his target's name. "Hanazawa Mikio?"

"The mayor of this fair city," the shopkeeper scoffed. The assassin looked at her.

His own height, she was only a few years older than he was, he thought, but she had a pleasant face with twinkling blue eyes. Her dark hair was pushed back away from her face except for the bangs that feathered off to one side. "You look cold," she said. "Can I make you some tea, at least? Maybe something to eat? I'm a good cook," she grinned, patting one ample hip. Indeed, if her figure was any judge, she was probably a very good cook; she was definitely a good eater.

She led the way into her shop, apologizing for the state of disorganization. "I'm afraid when the creative urge falls upon me, I stop paying attention to the little things like housework." The small storefront was littered with beads, string of various sorts from fine silk to thick yarns, needles from the finest slivers to sturdy bamboo sets meant for knitting, and other crafting paraphernalia. "Come, sit. Oh, I'm Ishioka Chikako. Welcome to my humble shop," she said brightly. Fussing around at the small stove (which he saw was actually a small kiln), she set water to boil. "You're not from around here."

Startled, the young assassin blinked. Before he could even ask, she waved a hand with a smile. "You didn't recognize the name. Everyone around here knows who HE is." She didn't look very impressed, to say the least. "I hope you'll forgive me being so forward but you have the most gorgeous hair I've ever seen," she added wistfully, changing the topic abruptly. "Such a beautiful color. Like fire, or blood."

He blinked. "Th-thank you," he said, utterly taken aback. The woman was a veritable force of nature all on her own; she was a little scary, really, somehow both motherly and flirtatious at once.

"So what can I call you?" The woman - ~no, Ishiokasan~ - asked.

"Himura," he said automatically.

"Himurasan," she smiled. "I have different kinds of tea. Do you have a preference?"

"Different kinds…?" Inwardly, he grew annoyed with himself. If he kept this up, she would think him simple. Then again, perhaps that was an ideal cover.

"I have green, black, mint…"

Best to keep it simple. "Green, please."

She smiled again and a few (surprisingly quiet) moments later, brought him the steaming cup.

"Don't get me wrong, he's not totally evil," she said, evidently back on the subject of the mayor. "He has done a few things right. But he's messed up a lot and generally angered a lot of people. And this storm was the clincher… Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" He shook his head and she continued. "The part of town where he lives is perfectly passable, but it's been four days and the rest of us are still basically trapped. People have died because help couldn't reach them in time!" She seemed caught between anger and anguish.

The young redhead sipped his tea in bewildered silence. It wasn't so much what she was saying that threw him inasmuch as her utterly unguarded approach. He was a stranger, and she had welcomed him, given him tea, and was speaking to him as though he were an old friend.

~Stupid woman. I could kill you before you blinked.~ Yet she wasn't stupid. Naïve, perhaps, and certainly flighty, but as she talked he was able to gather a picture in his mind of Hanazawa Mikio as a mayor.

It seemed almost like she was making excuses for him, half the time, and spending the other half tearing those same excuses down without mercy.

The mayor had been a successful businessman – very successful, in fact. Easily one of the richest men in the region, if not all of Japan, he had come into the office and claimed he would not accept financial compensation for his work in the position. A compromise was reached when it turned out that there was no way to overturn the laws that the mayor must be compensated: he would accept one ryou per year. It had been a favorable first impression.

Unfortunately, that was where it ended for many. He ran Nyuyakku like it was a business venture, with little concern for the employees thereof, to say nothing of the citizens. Even from a financial standpoint, the business of Nyuyakku was not a very successful one as he ran it.

And the people were angry.

The sun shifted west; he had to be moving if he wanted to remain hidden. Or would hiding in plain sight be a better option?

"Thank you for the tea," the assassin said in his quiet voice. "But I must keep going."

Ishioka Chikako looked saddened. He gathered that she was lonely. ~Lonely. I know what it is to be lonely. And I know a cure, as well.~

"If you must," was all she said. "Do you want to take some tea for the road, or something to eat?"

He shook his head. "Thank you, no. I have many miles yet to travel."

She nodded. "It was nice meeting you, Himurasan. If you ever pass this way again, please feel free to stop by."

"Thank you," he said. Something around his eyes softened; she guessed it was the closest he had ever come to smiling. She watched him go, feeling something that was partly compassion for such somberness in one so young, and part regret.

He pushed on, picturing the mayor from Ishiokasan's description. Short, she'd said, "about my height in fact." Slender, with all his hair, shrewd eyes and a deceptive smile. She'd laughed at her own lack of artistic ability but had managed to sketch out a caricature that helped him identify his quarry.

Finding a place to hide was not as hard as he had feared. A storage shed on the mayoral property provided him with shelter, warmth, and no one would notice if a couple of vegetables disappeared. He regretted not accepting her offer of something to eat but had been unable to bring himself to do so.

Night fell quickly.

The debate had raged within him throughout the day. Could he let this witness to his existence live?

Even as he pondered, he heard a large crowd departing the property; they seemed to be heading towards a dinner party. They would be gone for hours, he knew. That gave him more time to evaluate his situation.

He returned to the shop.

Ishioka Chikako was sleeping on the futon he'd noticed in the back during his visit. Revulsion filled him at the thought. She was a woman, but she'd seen him. She had treated him kindly, but she could identify him as the assassin – and even though she had seemed to approve, unknowingly, of his task, he suspected that she was too honest not to admit her knowledge of his existence.

He stood over her. In a single silent stroke, he severed her life.

Quickly, he moved things around, overturning furniture and creating a mess. He took a few handfuls of the beaded jewelry she had made, tying them up in a knitted scarf. He would bury them in the woods, far away; her death must look like a robbery.

It sickened him, this senseless death, but it was necessary.

He did not look back at her little shop. He returned to the place he had hidden during the day; it was well past the dinner hour now and the mayor ought to be returning.

Some time later, he heard voices approaching his hiding place.

Melding with the shadows, he readied his katana. The voices grew closer. He stepped forward.

"Stop right there. You are Mayor Hanazawa Mikio of Nyuyakku?" The four men stopped; three bodyguards and the slight man who was his target. "I have no personal grudge against you... But you must die for the new era."

Three men leapt into action; in less time than it took the mayor to inhale, all three were dead. The assassin faced the man he had been commissioned to kill.

"Who are you?" the old man demanded.

"Choushuu Ishin Shishi... Himura Battousai."

It was the last thing the mayor heard. He fell, cut by the assassin's sword.

There would be no cleanup crew here. Battousai took from the envelope a slip with a single word on it.

_Tenchuu._

Heaven's justice.

He dropped the paper onto the carcass before him.

~The most annoying thing about killing that man is I still have to get through all this snow. That death, at least, was necessary…~

[AN] You will not find a town called Nyuyakku on any map of Japan. This is me venting my frustrations about the way NYC handled the aftermath of the so-called "Holiday Blizzard of 2010". Any resemblance to actual people is totally intentional but totally parodic in nature. In no way, shape, or form is this story intended to reflect any actual plans. And yeah, I Mary Sued the shopkeeper a bit, but I think I'm entitled. Besides, she got the ending every Mary Sue deserves, desune? [/AN]


End file.
